The Fiesta Shuffle
by Layla2
Summary: My take on the shuffle challenge, with some odd or just old songs...
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I haven't written any fic since college, although I'm an avid reader. So when I started reading some of the shuffle challenges, I thought I give it a shot, just for fun.

I do admit to cheating a bit—my mp3 player is hooked up to my stereo in a different room, so I had to keep running back & forth. Frequent kitten visits to my keyboard created a few issues, too. But I tried to keep to the spirit of things by only writing what I thought of in the course of the song, and I did skip though a few utterly impossible things (I have a lot of weird stuff on my player).

The songs that came up were:

1._ Mercy (Where is the Love I've Lost)--_ Steve Jones, Miami Vice soundtrack

2._ Forever—Kenny Loggins_

3._ Pain is So Close to Pleasure_—Queen

4. _A View to A Kill_—Duran Duran

5. _Princes of the Universe_—Queen

6. _The Kiss_—_Last of the Mohicans_ Soundtrack

7. a.) _Get It On (Bang a Gong)_—Power Station

b.) _Elli Tmanetoh_—Nawal Al Zoghby

8. _Taking it all too hard_-- Genesis

9. _Rock n' Roll_-- Stevie Nicks (Live)

10. _The Girl from Ipanema_— Stan Getz/ Joao Gilberto (Duke Ellington)

I've listed the album info on a few of the more obscure songs. On number 7, the first song came up, which gave me the idea. The second is an Arabic pop song I've used for bellydancing, and it went with what I started, so…

And yes, I'm a racing fan and (former) bellydancer.

Hope you enjoy it—if you like it, please drop a me a line, as I haven't done this in a while, and really never knew what I was doing in the first place….

_Special thanks to notesofwimsey for the inspiration…_


	2. Chapter 2

1. _Mercy (Where is the Love I've Lost)--_ Steve Jones, Miami Vice soundtrack

God, she hated nights like this. It seemed like the whole city had gone insane. And it only ever happened at night, and only in the thickest heat of summer. Here it was pushing 1AM, and she'd swear you could still fry a damn egg on the pavement.

The scene, her fourth since she'd gone on the clock at 5, was even more nasty than usual. Boyfriend really did seem to go off the deep end and decided to permanently shut up his girlfriends' squalling kids.

She wiped away the sweat ready to drip from her brow, fighting the weariness, frustration, and hint of nausea threatening at the back of her throat. Some days, she thought she was the only sane, normal one around—that no one else felt the horror quite like she did.

"Stell?"

Then again, she thought, looking up at Flack, maybe there was one other person…

* * *

2. _Forever—Kenny Loggins_

Sometimes, it was so tempting, so close, that he really wanted to just say the hell with it. Take the chance. Hey, if he was some movie or TV cop, he'd already have gotten the girl ten times over by now.

But maybe that was the problem. She was no girl, oh no; too many sleepless nights and even cold showers were testament to the fact Stella Bonasera was 100 percent pure woman.

And he wanted her. Not just in his bed, but in his life and everything that came with it.


	3. Chapter 3

3. _Pain is So Close to Pleasure_—Queen

Torture, that's what it was. Complete and utter torture, cruel and unusual punishment, any judge (or woman with an active libido) would have to agree.

He just had to prove hitting 35 hadn't slowed him down any, which meant competing in the NYC marathon. And that, of course, brought him to the attention to people behind the yearly "Hunks of the NYPD" calendar done for charity. That in turn, meant that for the month of August, the calendar would display an very… intriguing picture of one Det. Donald Flack, Jr., wearing only an undershirt, obscenely tight faded blue jeans, his Glock in a shoulder hostler, and a wicked smirk.

Two days later, and Stella still wasn't sure whether to hug Lindsay or throttle her for the gift left on her desk.

* * *

4. _A View to A Kill_—Duran Duran

Yeah, he was enjoying this a bit too much. Yeah, the "Flack-- Donald Flack, Junior" didn't quite have the style and panache of the original. But come on, like he could pass up the chance?

Yeah, so he watched the movies—frequently. And he'd always had a secret desire for an Aston Martin, slick gadgets, and gorgeous women falling over themselves to be with him while he sipped away at a martini in some fancy casino bar in an exotic locale. What guy didn't?

And yeah, so he wasn't quite Sean Connery. But, glancing at the woman in black on his arm and smiling slightly, at least he got the gorgeous gal.


	4. Chapter 4

5. _Princes of the Universe_—Queen

Stella glanced at Lindsay over the top of her glass, rolling her eyes and sighing, as Flack launched into the tale once again. This had to be the 8th time she'd heard it since she started on her beer.

Tonight, Danny and Flack were Princes of the NYPD. Heading to a warehouse to investigate the report of a body, they'd stumbled across one of the Kingpins of the Russian Mob in the process of leaving a second body for them. They'd been trying to get the guy for years, but never had enough evidence to successfully prosecute. Flack & Danny had walked in to find him gun in hand, the muzzle pressed to the back of the vic's head, safety off and finger drawing the trigger back. Only the utter surprise at finding himself face to face with two of New York's finest had kept the victim alive. As a bonus, Danny had found the guy's laptop hidden under the seat of his car waiting outside, and it was brimming with info that had the DA and even the Feds drooling

Pure dumb luck, that's all it was, Stella thought, watching Flack accept another beer bought for him. Pure dumb luck they walked in when they did.

And pure dumb luck the guy dropped his gun instead of firing at them.

* * *

6. _The Kiss_—_Last of the Mohicans_ Soundtrack

Goddammit, she'd done it again. Gone charging in where angels fear to tread. Not blindly, of course, and with some of the best guys on SWAT going along, but she'd done it regardless. And he hadn't known about it until 7 hours after the fact.

Seven hours after she'd strapped on her vest and checked her pistol, while those around her piled on body armor and prepped H&Ks. Seven hours since she went charging in, gunfire flying around her. And seven hours since she'd taken two rounds in her left leg.

He hadn't stuck around to hear details. Just asked what hospital she was at, then offered a weak excuse and left.

It was 43 minutes since someone had told him.

38 minutes since he'd jumped in his car and illegally flipped on lights and siren.

18 minutes since he'd left the car outside the hospital.

13 minutes since he found out what room she was in.

Some unknown number of seconds since he stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of her sitting up in the hospital bed, leg bandaged heavily.

"Flack? Oh hey, thanks for coming. So who—"

And zero seconds since he kissed her like there was no tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

7. a) _Get It On (Bang a Gong)_—Power Station b.) _Elli Tmanetoh_—Nawal Al Zoghby

Stella was in a mood. And it was not a good one.

Surely there had to be another woman on the force who spoke Greek fluently, right? She was in the crime lab, dammit, not vice. And there certainly had to be one who could at least pass as a bellydancer. I mean, you'd certainly think so. But no, there wasn't.

Which meant doing Vice a favor. A BIG one. And making them swear on there lives that No one would hear about this.

She sighed, ready to head out. Apparently, the only way to get someone close enough to the dealers was to be the roving entertainment. She just hoped her dancing was good enough; she'd only been studying for a few years.

Hearing the owner introduce her, she gritted her teeth and double-checked her beaded, annoyingly-skimpy outfit and the dance tape holding key parts of it in place. The music started, and she plastered a smile on her face and stepped out on to the tiny stage.

And found herself looking right into the face of the waiter at the main table. The waiter who looked remarkably like a certain detective she knew. The waiter whose jaw promptly hit the floor.

Stella stared for a shocked minute, then a slow, almost wicked smile curved her lips, and she began to move. She was stuck doing this…. So why not have a little fun?

888888888888888888888

Over at then table, Don Flack's eyes went even wider. God help him… he was a dead man.

But what a way to go.

* * *

_8. __Taking it all too hard_-- Genesis

So this was it. He'd been dreading this day for years now, praying it would never come, but knowing it was inevitable. The day he opened his damn fool mouth and said something that damaged those precious ties beyond repair. The Day he lost what little he had of her.

Signaling the bartender for yet another refill, he reflected that knowing the day was coming didn't make it any easier to handle. But she just got to him, in a way that both unnerved him and thrilled him.

But he didn't have to worry about that any more, because it was over. Finished before it even began, all because that damn brain-mouth filter had failed at the worst possible time.

He took a deep gulp of the fresh beer, then let his forehead come to rest in his hands. Vaguely, he realized someone had sat down next to him and heard the bartender ask them what they were drinking, but it barely registered.

"Just a glass of water, thanks."

Crap. His head slid off his hands to thud onto the bar next to his glass.

"So I've been thinking…."

"Stella, don't, okay… please…"

"Let me finish, Don. I've been thinking… thinking that I might just be in love with you, too."


	6. Chapter 6

9. _Rock n' Roll_-- Stevie Nicks (Live)

_Watkins Glen, NY_

"This is your idea of fun?" He yelled in her ear, over the drone of the machines flying past.

"Yeah, occasionally," she yelled back, the grinned at him. "Gotta keep my inner speed demon happy, you know."

He smiled back, shaking his head slightly. "You ever ride one of those things?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

She nodded. "Had a boyfriend in college who rode one—not a racing bike, but about as close as you can get and still be street-legal. Never drove the thing, but at the time it was the thrill of my life. We'd get on that thing in the middle of the night and take off across one of the bridges. I'd have to get as close to him as I could and hang on for dear life." She gestured to where one of the motorcycles was going through a turn, the rider leaning far to the side, knee and shin occasionally scraping the track. "If I didn't move with him like I was glued to him, we would almost dump the bike."

He nodded, watching the riders closer, studying the way they moved in synch with the course and their machines. By the look on his face, Stella could tell he was deep in thought. "What are you thinking?"

He turned to look at her, a wicked smirk on his face. "I'm thinking I should get a motorcycle."

* * *

8. _The Girl from Ipanema_— Stan Getz/ Joao Gilberto (Duke Ellington)

The first thing he noticed was the soft strains of Brazilian jazz, which surprised him. Really, he would've thought the fact he was naked and not in his own bed would've caught his attention first. But it was early, he hadn't had any coffee, and, as his memory began to awaken as well, he realized he'd had a very, very late night.

He rolled over, the sheet sliding down his chest as he stretched. Oh, yeah, a very late night…and quite possibly the best one of his life. Finding and pulling on his boxers, (how the hell had they ended up there??), he stood up and sleepily followed the sound of the music into the kitchen of the apartment…

"_When she walks, she's like a samba, that sways so cool and sways so gently…"_

He stood back, watching the woman half-dance through the kitchen, getting out mugs for the brewing coffee. Wow. Just wow. And as she turned and smiled at him, a smile he'd never seen before, he could only think one thing: What the hell took him so damn long?"


End file.
